


You Don't Have to Woo Him

by abluevixen (knightofbows)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom!Credence, Crying During Sex, M/M, Mild Power Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, confident!credence, top!Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofbows/pseuds/abluevixen
Summary: sowho else thinks graves lives his life like he has something to prove?i imagine he fucks that way too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in a discordapp chat room. literally. i wrote this in a chat. the whole thing.  
> but i've sorta edited it.  
> #fantastic_nonsense

"he likes you, you know," newt randomly tells graves over coffee/tea one afternoon. 

he's referring to credence, of course, and graves, who hasn't broadcasted how he and credence fuck regularly just looks at newt as if he's grown a second head. 

"credence," newt clarifies, as if he needed to. "he likes you. you don't have to woo him." 

"who says i'm wooing him?" graves edges, mumbling into his coffee mug.

"he does," newt answers. 

graves chokes on his drink. 

**FLASHBACK**

"have you ever been with someone who fucks you like you're glass when you want them to pound you until you can't walk?" credence asks while feeding some creature. 

newt drops the bucket of feed he's carrying and flushes to his hairline. "i'm sorry, _what_?" 

"with you and tina," credence continues. "you trust her to tell you what she wants right?" 

newt sputters, "tina and i--" 

"--are regularly intimate," credence interrupts. "i don't care. i'm not judging. i'm just..."

newt huffs, but sets the bucket down and approaches credence. "you just...?" 

"...wished he trusted me. i wouldn't be with him if i didn't want to be. and it's not like--" credence sighs. "he doesn't have anything to make up for, you know? grindelwald wasn't his fault."

newt says, "you're talking about graves." 

"of course i'm talking about graves!" credence hisses. "who the hell else would i take to bed?" 

newt answers, "literally anyone you wanted." 

"and i want him!" 

"so tell him that." 

"i do! and he just..." credence actually kicks the sack of animal feed near his feet. "he just does this _his way_."

"if i can give some anecdotal advice..." newt starts, and when credence gives him his full attention he continues, "tina is very close-lipped about her wants. it's harder than wrangling an erumpent on ice to get her to talk." 

credence raises an eyebrow. 

"yes, i did that once. it was awful. anyway," he brushes his hands on his pants. "once she realized i genuinely wanted to know what she wanted--once she trusted i would try my hardest to deliver--she told me." 

**END FLASH BACK**

newt says, "so just, um...what i'm trying to say is..." 

and graves mops up the mess he's made of himself by choking on his drink. 

"...maybe trust him a bit more?" 

graves grumps, "i do trust him. you think i'd just take anyone to bed?"

newt nods emphatically. "yes, actually." 

"are you insulting me or complimenting me?" graves grumbles. 

newt quirks his lips, then sips his tea. "you're free to take it as you wish, mr. graves."

graves just snorts, but honestly doesn't know how to take it.

**LATER THAT NIGHT  
** _AT THE GRAVES ESTATE_

"you're distracted," credence says. he's straddling graves on one of the lavish sofas in the cozy den, arms bracketing graves as he grips the back of the sofa. a fire blazes in the hearth, warm enough for the pair of them to have quickly abandoned their shirts, but even as credence touches and kisses graves in all the ways he knows he likes, graves isn't nearly as enthusiastic as usual. "have i done something wrong?" he asks, leaning back. 

"no," graves says quickly, taking credence by the hips. "not at all. i'm just..." 

"distracted," credence insists, though he wears a soft smile to soften the accusation. 

graves sighs, but doesn't bother arguing the matter further. instead, he thumbs the knobs of credence's hips and licks his lips. he wonders if he should address the matter directly, or if he should simply act upon his newfound information, and stares at credence's happy trail as he debates. 

"...percy?" 

"are you satisfied with me?" graves blurts.

credence scowls, growling so softly and so viciously that graves actually startles from it. credence takes graves by his burning, flushed cheeks and makes sure he can't look away as he tends to do when broaching anything resembling emotions. "mr. scamander spoke with you, didn't he?" he demands. graves' throat bobs nervously, and it's all the confirmation credence needs. "that damned man. i didn't--percy, listen--" 

graves gives a resigned sigh, and moves to push credence off of him. 

credence doesn't budge. "no! listen to me, percy. will you just listen for a moment, for fuck's sake! 

"i'm not dissatisfied," credence says, once he has his attention. "i'm not." 

"what is it then?" graves sneers. 

"i just--maybe--" 

"out with it!" 

"i want to be your equal!" 

graves freezes, perplexed, and watches as credence squirms beneath the weight of his own declaration, of the hidden accusation that lingers beneath it. when words seems to fail credence, graves asks, "you feel you aren't?" 

credence sighs. "that's not it either," and he sounds _miserable_. 

"then what?" graves gentles. he runs his hands over credence's flanks, then back to his hips, down his thighs. credence is falling into an old habit of sagging his shoulders, making himself as small as possible. graves hates it, tries to ease it away. 

"i don't think i--" credence stops suddenly, sighing shakily as graves just _touches_ him. no intent behind it, just contact. he straightens a bit, sits in graves' lap a little taller. "i don't think i please you as much as you please me." 

"bullshit," graves immediately spits. "you please me plenty." 

"but not as much as you please me," credence insists. "i want...to do more for you. i want you to let me." 

"i do," graves argues weakly. "you do a lot for me, and, sure, i might have been...reluctant...in the beginning, but i rarely deny you and--" 

"it's not about denying or allowing," credence sighs. "not really. it's about..." he makes a vague gesture with his hands that reminds graves of spell-weaving. "i feel like you still treat me like a child." 

graves snorts. "i'd never do to a child what i do to you." 

credence smirks. "that's not what i meant, either." 

whether graves is intentionally being daft, or he's using his auror training to dance around the matter, credence tries a different approach: "if you were to take someone else to bed, someone you met at a bar, say, would you treat them with the same, um, _consideration_ as you do me?" 

graves groans and rolls his eyes. "is _that_ was this is about?" 

credence is incredulous. "what?!" 

"you think i'm too _gentle_ with you?" 

credence's cheeks are bright red. he stammers, "...i think so, yes..." 

graves laughs. the son of a bitch actually _laughs_. 

credence swats his chest. "stop it! i'm serious!" 

"if you wanted it rougher, all you had to do was say so," graves says. 

"is that right?" credence challenges. "fine! then i want it rougher." 

graves tosses him off his lap to lay out on the rest of the sofa, then pounces so he's leaning over him. "how rough?" 

"as rough as it needs to be."

this causes graves to pause. "to what end?" 

"for you to finally stop treating me like i'm made of glass," credence barks. "christ, graves, i'm twenty-three with a lover far more worldly and experienced and you fuck me like i'm a flower about to wilt without the sun."

graves grumbles, "has it ever occurred to you that perhaps i have little interest in hurting you?" 

"and has it occurred to you that perhaps i have a lot of interest in being hurt by you?" 

graves hides his face in credence's neck. "fuck, boy, you're going to kill me."

"i will if you don't fuck me like i want," credence counters. 

"fair," graves agrees.

**CONTINUED UPON GROUP REQUEST**

graves doesn't necessarily _expect_ the sharpness of teeth in credence's kiss, but he isn't _surprised_ by it either. if he's understood the renegotiated terms of their arrangement, rough is what credence wants from him, and, well, who's graves to deny him? he presses hard between credence's spread legs, framing his lover's head between his forearms. he licks into his mouth, suckles his bottom lip, and smirks with self-satisfaction when credence mewls. 

credence arches beneath graves, heels digging into the pillow of the sofa as he drapes his arms lazily over graves' shoulders. his long fingers walk aimless, lazy patterns across graves' neck, the tight muscles of his shoulders. he hisses when graves tugs his hair, pulling back his head to mouth at his jaw, his neck. typically graves is tender with credence, pouring his affection into every point of contact between them, but it often leaves credence feeling guilty and over-worshipped. but this--teeth sinking into his throat, the buckle of graves' belt digging into the soft flesh of his belly, a hard thumb pressed against his pulse--he's a pinned butterfly, and it's infinitely better than being a doll on a shelf. 

after dragging blunt fingernails down the tender flesh of credence's flank, graves growls, "on your knees," against credence's temple.

credence's whole body shudders, and graves' hold on his throat only tightens when he swallows. "yes, mr. graves," he breathes, hot and needy. 

graves hums, but sits back on his haunches to let credence move. "we didn't discuss that," he says. he watches credence wriggle just far enough away to swing his long legs around graves' form, adjust his hips, his knees. when credence braces his elbows against the arm of the sofa and looks at graves with a sultry fire in his dark eyes, graves wonders why he's asking. _because you care_ , his subconscious unhelpfully reminds him. 

"we didn't," credence agrees. "do you not like being addressed so formally, percy?" 

and it's enough to remind graves to trust credence, to know that if something goes against his liking, credence will speak up about it. graves sighs, but he's pleased more than anything. "you're the only one who calls me percy," he answers, running a hand along credence's spine. "but you can call me whatever you'd like." 

"okay da--" 

"i swear to christ, credence, if you call me 'daddy', i will walk away and you'll have to deal with your leaking dick on your own." 

credence laughs into his shoulder. "fine, then. _mr. graves_ will do for tonight." 

graves hates how it makes him throb to hear credence purr like that. "fine." he reaches around credence's hip and unceremoniously snaps open the buttons of his fly. 

credence laughs again, airy, like he can't quite catch his breath, and leans back against graves' hips. he pushes up so the heels of his palms are braced against the sofa's arm, all but sits in graves' lap again, for which he gets a smart swat on the ass--not even enough to hurt, just enough to get his attention, and _graves is still being considerate_. he laughs again. 

"do you want me to take your pants off or not?" graves grumbles. 

"don't like the tease, _mr. graves_?" credence purrs, smirking over his shoulder. 

graves wraps a loose hand around the front of credence's throat, slides it up until credence's head tips back. "i like the tease plenty, but i thought you wanted a fucking." 

to emphasize his point, graves pulls credence flush against him and grinds his aching dick, trapped behind too many layers of clothes, against credence's ass. 

"suppose i've teased you enough, then," credence pants. 

"hands on the sofa arm," graves says, snapping a bit like he would to an intern. he gives credence a little shove that might be a smidge rougher than he intended. "spread your knees a little wider." 

"yes, mr. graves." 

graves yanks credence's pants down over his hips, knows how tightly they bind the spread of his knees, how rigid they are against his thighs. but it's enough. there won't be much squirming on credence's part unless graves helps facilitate it. besides, graves intends to do most of the work anyway. he grabs one of the rounded cheeks of credence's ass and squeezes, lets his thumb ghost between them for the briefest of moments. 

credence shivers. 

graves decides he won't wait any longer. with a single, deft hand, he unbuttons the fly of his trousers and yanks them down. it's almost a relief to be free of the suffocating fabric, and he inches that scant distance closer to credence. " _lubrico_ ," he says with a wave of his hand. the space between credence's cheeks, and his waved hand are immediately, magically slick. with this part, no matter how much credence complains about his being _gentle_ , graves will _always_ take his time. credence might want a little pain, a bit of hurt, but graves will not--ever--include _that_  in _this_  process. he's so deep in his contemplation of how exactly he'll push credence, he nearly misses his whispered, "fuck, percy," which does more to him than any purr of his surname could. "what was that?" graves asks. 

"love your wandless magic," credence mutters. 

humming with vague interest, graves leans over credence and kisses the space between the wings of his shoulder blades. when he presses a single finger into him, credence hisses, and graves kisses him again. "is that so?" he asks, intrigued. 

"yes, mr. graves," credence says. "always have." 

"why's that?" graves asks. before credence can answer, graves has him choking on his words with thrusting made skilled with familiarity. he knows what credence likes, and he likes giving to him. to stroke him just so, to push just so deep. 

credence's head hangs between his shoulders, and he rocks back against graves' hand as much as their proximity and the bindings of his clothes allow. he groans when graves adds a second finger. "you're powerful. newt--" graves jabs him a little harder like a reprimand, and credence huffs a laugh. " _mr. scamander_ says only a few wizards can do it. that it's a rare skill." 

"do you think it's wise to mention another wizard when i'm gearing to fuck you?" 

"maybe you'll fuck me harder than you planned," credence bites back. "make me forget all about whatever wizard i mentioned." 

graves chuckles, fucks credence a little harder with his fingers, and bites lightly at his shoulder. "you're an absolute little shit," he mumbles. 

"will you punish me, _mr. graves_?" credence asks. 

the innocent lilt in his voice forces graves to pause, to regroup, because he hasn't considered such a turn in their relationship, had never considered anything but the over-indulgent way he's been fucking credence from the beginning. but now credence wants it rough, and he wants punishment, and he's absolutely _torturing_ graves. surely he knows it. 

"might have to at this rate," graves answers. he can comfortably move two fingers in and out of credence with little resistance, so he eases in a third. as he expects, credence initially bucks against the breech--it's something they haven't quite been able to work around, only through--so he waits until credence settles before he resumes thrusting. 

credence pushes back against graves' hand again, rocking his anxious hips to pull graves deeper. "any more of this and i'll come," he breathes. 

"wouldn't want that," graves retorts sarcastically. 

"not without your cock in me anyway," credence agrees. 

so graves withdraws his hands, and mutters another _lubrico_ spell to slick them up anew. with his hands on credence's hips, he aligns himself with credence, pressing in lightly with just the head of his dick. he takes a breath and reminds himself that credence _wants this_. he wants this rough. he doesn't want the affection and attentiveness graves typically doles out. and graves can do that. graves can do rough. he snaps his hips, burying himself balls-deep. he only wraps an arm around credence when he yelps and his arms nearly buckle beneath the force of it. 

credence laughs at his own lack of grace, but graves' arm around his torso lets him lean back a bit against him. "fuck," he sighs. 

"alright?" 

"yes," credence says. "mr. graves," he adds. "please give me more." 

"jesus christ," graves mutters, but he pulls out and slams into him again. 

credence bows his back, pressing shoulders into graves' chest and ass agaisnt graves' dick, like a stretching cat. then he buries his long fingers in graves' hair, giving a light tug to the dark locks to dishevel them the way he likes, before grinding hard and languidly against him. he rests his head on graves' shoulder, bites his lip on a moan, then turns to nip at graves' jaw. he sighs a soft, "yes," as graves rakes his nails down his chest. 

graves allows the indulgence just long enough for credence to find a rhythm, just long enough to lose himself in the steadying touches and bites of sensation provided by graves' idle hands--then he growls, "i said, _hands on the sofa_." and as if commanded by graves will--because perhaps they are--credence's hands fly from their places in graves' hair, over graves' own hand, and clutch, white-knuckled, onto the sofa arm. 

"jesus," credence breathes, awed. he pulls experimentally at the invisible bonds holding him, but they don't budge. " _jesus._ " 

"perhaps you should pay more attention, credence," graves intones gravely. 

"yes, _mr. graves_ ," credence says. 

when he takes credence's hips, graves grips him hard enough to bruise, digging his fingers into the tender, pale flesh. "good," he says. he pulls back, then yanks credence to him as he slams forward. he doesn't expect it to feel as good as it does, and he certainly doesn't anticipate credence's high whimper. but credence doesn't tell him to stop, so graves does it again. and again. his rhythm is soon a punishing, vengeful thing. he's heedless of how his belt buckle smacks against the backs of credence's thighs, of how the buttons of his trousers redden the milky skin of credence's ass. all he's mindful of is regularly refreshing the _lubrico_ spell to keep credence as wet as possible, and _fuck_ , he thinks it's soaking through his clothes. 

the soft sofa, normally comfortable enough for a quick romp, isn't designed for the friction graves forces upon it. his balance is a precarious thing, and he repeatedly adjusts credence's hips to fuck him easier. soon enough, graves just shoves them forward until credence's knees are pinned against the arm of the sofa, and he digs the soles of his shoes into the material for better purchase. 

each thrust is a small keen from credence, a heavy huff from graves, and a wet smack between them. 

eventually, credence's head drops between his shoulders, and with his hands still magically bound to the sofa arm, all he can do his repeat a broken mantra of "yes" and "please" and "mr. graves," as graves pounds into him. he doesn't care that his cock is pinched almost painfully against the arm of the sofa. he doesn't care that his fingers tingle with oncoming numbness. he can hardly fathom a world or an existence beyond graves buried deep in him and the stars bursting behind his clamped eyelids. 

as much as he loves credence's body--all its sharp angles and subtle curves; the stark contrast of his raven feather hair and his pale moon skin; the soft litany of prayers and curses that fall from his plush, cherry-red lips--this change of pace, this roughness, refocuses graves' senses on a hunger he ever knew writhed within him, voracious in its clawing with such neglect. graves acknowledges it now, realizes, with startling clarity, that perhaps credence acknowledged it as well. and graves needs more. so. much. more. 

he leans over credence's bent form, licks the beading sweat along the nape of his neck, then sucks a biting kiss into his shoulder. he presses into him hard, grinding a slow roll with his hips as he savors every inch of where their skin touches. but then, with a flick of his wrist, he launches credence's hands from the sofa arm and onto the floor. 

credence's body follows where graves' magic yanks him, yelping fearfully until graves' magic also eases his fall and impact. it's warm and soft and as sturdy as graves himself. surely his wrists should have snapped. surely he should be a crumpled heap. surely...surely... but then graves pulls out and slams into him again, and credence's eyes burn. he clutches the carpet beneath his scarred palms. 

"alright, love?" graves breathes into the small of his back. 

"...yes, mr. graves," he croaks. 

"good." 

with a clearer idea of what he, himself needs, and a clear understanding of what credence wants, graves shifts here and pushes there, adjusting the angle of his fucking until credence is yowling beneath him. even then, he doesn't fully trust their current method. he probes gently with tentative fingers at where credence's hip bones lie in relation to the unforgiving skeleton of the sofa, where his cock is actually pinned between the edge of the sofa arm and his belly. when graves does _that_ \--touches credence's dick--credence whimpers and squirms and cries a soft, "please, mr. graves." 

and when he asks _so nicely..._

it's good enough, he decides. with his knees braced against the arm of the sofa, and his shoes digging into the cushion upon which he kneels, graves, again, takes credence by the hips and slams into him. he has a new type of leverage here, and credence has none. though his arms are certainly long enough to hold his weight and brace against the floor, graves has credence's wrists pinned so far from the sofa that he's left utterly at graves' mercy. there is no way for him to push back against graves' cock, no way for credence to chase the pleasure graves gives him. 

and oh, what pleasure it is. this angle allows for a depth and accuracy graves has been chasing since the first time he took credence to bed. of course he's managed to satisfy his lover well enough in the past, but this...this is entirely different. 

credence's face pressed against carpet, his arms stretched inconveniently far. he'll have a bit of rug burn on his cheek when they're through, and a smattering of tears clump his lashes, glittering in the firelight like a constellation of stars. his lips are bitten red, swollen into a pout, and they quiver with the nonsense he utters upon every shift or jab or throb of graves' cock in him. 

graves rather likes it. 

because he'd gotten such a visceral response from it before, graves abandons one of credence's hips and, instead, worms it into the space where credence is doubled over the sofa arm, made tacky where credence's cock leaks. in time with his thrusting, graves caresses the head of credence's dick with the pads of his fingers. it's barely more sensation than the slip of the sofa material, but credence sniffles wetly against the carpet and hiccups a broken breath. graves hardly hears it over the smack of skin as he fucks him. 

but even this newfound bliss eventually crests--and far too soon for graves' tastes. he'd prefer to have credence pone a little longer, perhaps a little more helpless beneath graves' ministrations. credence has no idea what lecherous desires he's awoken with his request. 

credence's voice is raw, choking thing, and he claws uselessly at the carpet until his nails scratch nearly to the padding. he writhes and begs, and tears stain his beautifully reddened cheeks. graves hesitates for the split second it takes to hear credence cry: 

"please, percy. percy. percy, please." 

credence seizes beneath him like a live wire, clamping hard on graves' cock and soaking the space between his belly and the sofa arm, graves' hand with it. he sobs wretchedly, brokenly, and it sounds painful and desirous and desperate. he trembles and thrashes, sobbing harder as graves fucks him still. 

"percy. _percy_." 

a lightning bolt of heat jolts through graves from the base of his skull down his spine. it ricochets through his gut, his pelvis, and then he comes harder than he has in his life, clawing into credence's hip hard enough to break skin. he buckles at the waist, draping over credence and biting hard just above his ribs. credence yelps, and it just makes graves shudder harder through his orgasm. 

credence still cries softly when the ringing in graves' ears subsides, still scrabbles mindlessly at the carpet.

breathing heavily, graves rests his forehead against the small of credence's back for the half-second it takes him to regain his senses. he knows this is uncomfortable--even his back is starting to ache from the strenuous angle--and he kisses the sweat-salty skin beneath his lips before righting himself.

it's with more of his wondrous wandless magic that graves frees credence, cleans the pair of them up, and eases credence's limp body into a more suitable position. though he's no stranger to a lover shedding tears after a particularly passionate bout, what does alarm graves is how credence's tears continue even after being released and rearranged. after lounging back into the sofa, he pulls credence into his arms and wipes his face with a tentative thumb. impulse tells him to heal the wounds he's caused, but credence's own words uttered just earlier that night stay his hand and his magic.

"credence...?" he chances uneasily.

with limbs as unsteady as a fawn's, credence props himself up on his elbow and scrubs his face. despite his tears and their stubborn flow, his smile is shy but sincere. "christ, percy."

"what?"

"that was incredible."

baffled, graves can only concede when credence slowly rolls atop him, fully stretched out along the length of his body, fucked out and beautifully debauched. when credence kisses him, he's surprised, but he cards his fingers through credence's dark hair and kisses him back. he can taste the salt of his tears on his lips, and he licks it away, hauling him closer.

"amazing," credence breathes between kisses.

"hmm?"

credence pulls away to nuzzle beneath graves' jaw, and kisses there where graves obligingly tilts his head. tapping idling down his ribcage, he says, "i didn't think you'd listen to me."

"why wouldn't i listen to you?" graves asks, rubbing credence's back. he feels the answering pout against his neck.

"you have a way of doing things," credence says.

"everyone does, but that doesn't mean it can't be changed." he pauses a moment, then asks, "you really enjoyed that?"

"of course," credence answers immediately. "did you?"

"perhaps a little more than i'm ready to admit," graves mutters.

with a light laugh, credence leans up to kiss graves again. "thank you, percy."

"you're very welcome, love."

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr: [foxtricks](http://foxtricks.tumblr.com/)  
> and follow me twitter for general shenanigans: [@_foxtricks](http://twitter.com/_foxtricks/)


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